Sinister

Eight | You'll Remember Me, Won't You?

eleven years old

"JUST for a second, Father," Draco begged, tugging on the end of Lucius's wool coat. "I promise I won't be long."

At eleven years old, the boy was hardly taller than Lucius's waist. The two of them stood outside Sugarplum's Sweets Shop, having just finished shopping for Draco's first year at Hogwarts. The pink storefront showcased its most extravagant candies - the perfect lure for any passing children.

Lucius glanced down at his son and sighed. "Five minutes. And not a second more."

Before his father could change his mind, Draco rushed inside the shop, drawn by the smell of burnt sugar and red licorice. He spent the first minute simply staring at the spectacle of sweets (fizzing whizzbees, sugar quills, exploding bonbons), before setting his sights on a gargantuan display case in the far back. It contained a magnificent model of Hogwarts - made entirely of chocolate.

He stared at the exhibit in wonderment, excitedly soaking in all the details, when a second, equally-tiny figure came to stand beside him.

"Will you be going to Hogwarts, too?"

Draco turned his head to the voice who asked and beheld what, in his opinion, had to be the prettiest girl he'd ever laid eyes upon. She looked to be eleven years old, like him, with long hair tied into twin pigtails and a dark complexion. But it was her smile that compelled him most - for the girl appeared to smile with all the intensity of a sunbeam.

"Well, will you?" she repeated. Her accent sounded funny; it was less elegant than his, clumsy on the vowels.

Draco puffed his chest, standing taller. "Yes, I will," he said. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

He expected an awed gaze, perhaps a curtsy, but the girl didn't seem to recognize his last name. How odd.

"I'm Margot Montgomery," she said, extending a small hand. "I haven't met any other Hogwarts students yet. Perhaps we could be friends."

Draco's head bobbed vigorously and he accepted her handshake. "Sure we can. I'm to be a Slytherin, what about you?"

"What's that?" she asked, head tilted.

"You don't know about the Houses?" he asked in astonishment. "But what about your parents? What Houses were they sorted in?"

Margot shook her head. "My parents didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Oh." That explained her strange way of talking. She wasn't from around here.

How scary it must be, Draco thought, to have to forge your own path. For him, there'd never been a question in his mind what house he'd be sorted in. He had to be a Slytherin - just like his parents had been, and their parents before them.

She smiled. "Maybe we'll be Slidder-pins together."

"Slytherin," Draco corrected, laughing. "You've really never heard of it?"

"Never," she replied. Her eyes sparkled as she laughed along with him, until they veered somewhere behind him. "Oh, my mom's calling me now. I have to go."

"You'll remember me, won't you?" Draco asked before she could slip away. "We can sit next to each other on the train. I'll introduce you to my other friends, Crabbe and Goyle. We can eat chocolate frogs and I'll show you my Wizard Card collection. I have all hundred of them!"

Margot nodded excitedly. "Sure, and then maybe we could -"

Just then, a hand yanked Draco by the collar, nearly suffocating him.

Lucius.

Draco didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to his new friend before his father was dragging him out of the shop. He towed his son to an abandoned alley nearby then shoved him forward so that he stumbled.

"What were you doing?" Lucius hissed, blue eyes sparking with rage.

Draco's gut gave a horrible lurch. "Father, I was just -"

He cried out when his father's cane lashed him across the face. Hard.

"That creature you were talking to was a Mudblood," Lucius spit, giving him another sharp jab in the stomach. "A Muggle-bred bitch. Have you no shame, Draco? Have you no sense?"

"I didn't know," Draco wailed, trying to keep the tears from forming. Growing up, he'd been told that weeping boys made for weak men, but the pain was too much. His cheek and stomach felt like living flames.

Lucius readjusted his leather glove, then gripped his son harshly by the chin. "You will never associate with that girl again. Never." His grasp tightened. "Do you understand?"

A single tear rolled down Draco's cheek.

Lucius sneered. "One day you'll learn, son. Mudbloods like her are only good for two things: target practice and a quick shag."